September 19th Date of my life
by BackToLife
Summary: Hermione Granger doesn't know who she is. Draco Malfoy doesn't want to be who he was. Both live 10000km apart in the Muggle world 9 years after the war and are believed to be dead. A story about being lost, but also finding a way back to life and love.
1. Prologue

_Author´s Note: _I changed the structure of the story as I outlined pretty much of it. For the few who already have started reading and actually want to stick with me: Thank you and the first three chapters became the prologue, while the former 4th chapter will be the first real one. Sorry for the disorientation, it´s my first fiction and still needs a lot of work. That´s why of course I would appreciate any feed back very much!

_Disclaimer:_ JK Rowling, you did an awsome job, now you are done and we´re left without new books. The characters are all yours; I just borrow them for a while. I don´t make money out of it, so please don´t sue me!

Prologue

Being lost and loosing yourself

Eva Blythe was not a happy person. Her friends, colleagues and students would consider her to be one, though. Only she would know that the perfect young woman she appeared to be in her daily life, wasn´t the real Eva.

But who was this real Eva? That exactly happened to be the problem, Eva didn´t know. She was almost 25 years old and still hadn´t figured out who she was, where her place in this life lied and which path she had to take. But again, the people surrounding her wouldn´t agree with Eva thinking like that. They saw the admirable Spanish teacher of St.Louis High School in Utah, Salt Lake City, a young woman, who had traveled the world widely, who was both witty and literate, even wise for her age. They saw the energetic, warm-hearted, kind and over all strong woman, not the girl behind those honey-brown eyes, who was simply utterly lost in her depth of despair.

Nobody had ever visited her at home though, if they would have, they would have to reconsider their opinion about Seniorita Eva and she would loose the little affection some people – her students and their parents mostly, had for her in this huge, frightening world.

Those thoughts haunted Eva every day, when she entered her small, but cozy flat on the top flour of the old building just around the corner from her school, where she was living since she had graduated from university and taken this job almost two years ago. Every day she thought about changing her life, getting back on track finally and starting to live the life she wanted to live, but every day – she failed.

Tears shot into her eyes and yet she knew, she wouldn´t cry. She hadn´t cried in all those years and even if she wished to do so, she simply couldn´t. So she did what she always did. She tossed her school bag in the corner nearby her door, dropped her jacket carelessly on the floor, stripped off her shoes and stepped over all the trash, old newspapers, books, piles of clothes, bags into the kitchen, where she opened the fridge to take out some chocolate ice cream hidden between moldy vegetables and bread.

Although she had sworn yesterday she wouldn´t eat in bed anymore, she would tidy up, go for a walk, or at least cook herself a meal, all she could do was to crawl under her covers, take one of the books which were tossed on the floor beside her bed and loose herself, forget herself and the person she didn´t know how to define. She was safe now, she didn´t have to think about loosing another day, another battle. She wasn´t even aware anymore that she had lost, because she was not in her flat anymore, but in a magical world – she had gone directly into the world of Hogwarts, Harry Potter and most importantly Hermione Granger. She could understand this world better than the one she was living in, she felt she truly fitted into it. And with that she got lost in the 6th book, right jumping into the Golden trio discussing what Draco Malfoy was up to this time. Nothing good could come out of that arrogant ferret, that Eva knew for sure.

To loose and how to get lost

Marco Daniels wasn´t a happy man either. His friends, colleagues and the people he dealt with at work would consider him to be one, though. Only he would know that the perfect man he appeared to be in his daily life, this Marco Daniels, wasn´t really Marco.

But who was Marco really? The problem happened to be, he exactly knew who he was and he could never ever forget who he was, as much as he wanted. It haunted him, day and night, for the 9 years now that he had not officially been him. Him, that was Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, as he called himself, was an utterly bad person, he had gone as bad as a person could go, he had no heart, and always the wrong opinions and he was an arrogant arse. But again, the the people surrounding him wouldn´t agree with Marco thinking like that. They saw the admirable attaché of the US embassy cultural relationships department in Santiago de Chile, a young man, who had traveled the world widely, who was both witty and literate, even wise for his age. They saw the energetic, cool-minded, determined and over all strong man, not the man behind those grey eyes, who was simply utterly lost in his depth of regret.

Nobody knew of his true identity though, if they would have, they would have to reconsider their opinion about Senior Daniels and she would loose the little respect some people – his co-workers and the other diplomats mostly, had for him in this huge, unforgiving world.

Those thoughts haunted Marco every day, when he entered his wide, stylish loft just around the Plaza Mayor in Santiago, where he was living since he took the offer to take this position in the cultural department instead of the one in the economics he had worked on in Nepal until two years ago. Every day he thought about being honest, about forgiving himself and even about apologizing, but every day – he failed.

There were no tears left in Marco and Draco had never cried one in his whole life. Both had nothing left except for emptiness and loneliness. So after storing away his briefcase, taking off his shoes, cleaning after himself, folding his work clothes neatly and changing into a relaxing jumper, Marco poured himself a glass of wine and as every evening went out to his roof-deck to sit there in silence.

Marco didn´t swear that he would change his life though, that he wouldn´t stay away from everybody anymore, because Draco was still a wizard and as hard as Marco tried to forget that, he knew exactly what happened when wizards made oaths, and that was something he never ever wanted to do again. He sighed as he knew he was walking on thin ice at thought for a moment about loosing another evening, another battle to the past. But he was aware that he had already lost, he wasn´t at his loft anymore – he had gone directly into the Room of Requirement, Hogwarts, into a world that was full of evil. He didn´t understand that world anymore and he didn´t fit into either. Still there he was, in the Room of Requirement, trying to find a plan to kill Albus Dumbledore. How could he do that? He scowled; nothing good could come out of him, that arrogant ferret, that Marco knew for sure.

Having lost somebody

Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were not happy people either. Their friends, co-aurors and their family didn´t consider them to be so either. Everybody knew that the perfect boys they had been once were mere shallows of themselves.

But how did the boy-who-lived-and-defeated-you-know-who and the-man-who-always-stood-by-Harry-Potter become like that? The problem happened to be, the first didn´t care that he lived or whom he defeated and the second knew that this was his fault, because he hadn´t stood by him. They both had lost the girl they loved most in this world, Hermione Granger. Since then nothing had been the same again, even if they had defeated Voldemort together, graduated from Hogwarts a later, got into the Auror´s apprenticeship and even made a career there. It didn´t matter to them and even if the people surround them wouldn´t agree with that attitude, they couldn´t change that. They only saw Hermione and their own failure. After the summer they became of age, they had left for the final conquest to destroy Voldemort together, for the Horcrux hunt. Ron had left in the long winter to go home, snipping at her, Harry hadn´t known what to do then, he had so much on his own mind. And then, one day she was simply gone. She only went to collect some mushrooms and never came back again. Ron did though, but what did that help? Hermione was gone, Harry had seen her in his dreams that night saying "I will always love you, both of you. You will defeat Voldemort, I´m sorry, I failed you, I can´t help anymore, my life is over." So Harry Potters and Ron Weasleys life was over even if they lifed and all the wizarding world could see were two men in their mid-twenties, bitter, lost and utterly alone, still mourning for the girl they both loved – and loosing themselves in a dreamworld, where she still lived.

These words and their own guilt haunted the two men every day when they returned home to the Burrow, where they both lived. Arthur and Molly Weasley had lost so much in the war and taken them in, Harry as well as their own son. Now they wished often they could make the two of them take an oath to start living again – but they knew that they couldn´t ask something the boys couldn´t vow. Everyday they hoped they would start living again, crying, loving, doing anything beside hunting dark wizwards though, but everyday – they were failed.

The boys didn´t even cry, they never had. Every night or morning when they returned to the Burrow they would eat in silence and then go up to Ron´s room to stare into the darkness, side by side. Sometimes they would fight, whose fault it was, but even that didn´t happen anymore. They would just sit and stare and think of Hermione. Hermione, who they both loved and lost. To the rest of Hogwarts, even to Draco Malfoy, that arrogant ferret, they were oblivious most of the time. Little did they know of anything, but Draco Malfoy, even dead as he was, still was an arrogant ferret, that Harry and Ron knew for sure… as sure as they knew that their Hermione was gone, too.

_Author´s Note:_ This is my first fic, so please don´t be to hard on me, especially with language issues – English is not my first language, so if you´re available for beta-reading，I´ll be more than glad to have you.

The chapters will always be short, but I hope I will be able to develop the plot like that to an adequate novella-length story. Constructive reviews are of course always appreciated!

Also as for AU: This story is canon until a point in DH, when Hermione goes to look for wild mushrooms soon after Ron left. The rest of DH and the epilogue is not taken into consideration. More I will not say.


	2. Chapter 1: The lost teenage years

_Disclaimer:_ JK Rowling, you did an awsome job, now you are done and we´re left without new books. The characters are all yours; I just borrow them for a while. I don´t make money out of it, so please don´t sue me!

Chapter 1: The lost teenage years

"Oh my Goddess, how much do I hate Monday mornings!" With those words Eva Blythe slammed her hand over the radio alarm clock beside her bed. She had been reading all the way through Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince again yesterday, not being able to find sleep until the early morning hours. And now it was 6 a.m., she was not the Hermione Granger of her dreams, there was no possibility she would meet Harry and Ron for breakfast in the Great Hall, no potion classes with the Greasy Git and certainly no discussing or sneaking after Draco Malfoy. She was Eva Blythe, semi-respectable Spanish teacher in her mid 20th ("Oh my Goddess, how did I become so old?") and she certainly had to take care for herself.

"Good morning, Eva. You have to get up. Take a shower. Brush your teeth. Get dressed. Get your hair ready. Make breakfast. Look at the alternative for the listening comprehension questions you can give to your weaker students. And for God sake, you have to tidy up a bit." With this thoughts and the beginning wave of guilt she opened her eyes, looking around her. The floor was a mess – clothes over clothes, in between chocolate papers, empty ice cream buckets, even a plate she had broken the night before by simply dropping it after finishing her Spaghetti Napoli.

Oh, how much she hated herself. She simply couldn´t do it. Why did she let her life become like that? She wasn't able to ever change it, even if she wanted to. Guilt rolled over her like a truck. So instead of attempting the change and doing what she needed to do, she shut her eyes again as she did so often, once again drifting away into dreams about Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. She wouldn't be able to make it anyway, she was a looser, there was no use in trying to even get up and live the way she wanted to – tidy, healthy, energetic, self-respecting, just as she knew Eva Maia Blythe wanted to live. But she had known for years now, and another day lost won't hurt. She was a looser anyway.

But never ever would she become so much a looser, that she wouldn´t go to work anymore. "Well, that´s not quite true. I called in sick just last week, because I really couldn´t handle it after I had hit my nose against the wall during the night in my dreams and practically only panicked the rest of the night." "But that´s no excuse!" "Well, I know. I´m a looser, and one day I won´t be able to make it to work anymore. I will loose everything." That was Eva´s biggest fear, her kids meant everything to her. They were the reason she got up every day – not soon enough to begin her day as she would want to, but soon enough to at least get dressed and run the short distance to school just in time for the 8 a.m. bell.

Today just as usual she was late a second, still chewing on the last bite of the apple she had grabbed, but quickly swallowing while putting on her teaching smile and shutting the door with quite a bang. She was not at all a Snape-type teacher, but she loved to give that door a juvenile slam, signalizing: "Good morning, class. I´m here. I´m alive. I have energy. And by the way I love you." Well the last sentence she mostly expressed in her smile and hand clap while saying: "Hola, Buenos dias. Como están hoy?"

She let her eyes wander carefully over her class while listening to the "Buenos dias, seniorita Eva. Estamos bien!", just as she did every morning. She always looked out for her students, whether they were happy or seemed struggling with himself. In her student days there had been no teachers who looked out for her, but she had always wished somebody would have noticed her loneliness, her being lost and all the desperation she felt then and still. Therefore she worked hard to establish an area of trust and respect in her class.

Today she noticed Michael looking especially happy. That made her smile glow even more, because from his last weekly diary entry she had been revising just the night before, she knew that he been planning to finally ask out the girl he had feelings for. Whoever it was seemed to at least not be completely declined to accept. But who could it be? Chasing after that thought for a millisecond her smile disappeared and her honey-brown eyes took the look of deep concern, shock even panic.

"Anna. My little Anna. What happened to you?" Her eyes lingered on the blond, scrawny girl a bit longer than usual. She had bruises on her neck once again, insufficiently covered by her turtleneck. It wasn´t the first time that Eva had noticed that and those bruises really didn´t look like love bites this times. She would have to talk to her after class, or do something.

But first Eva had a class to teach, so she quickly instructed a homework revising game. Eva was not only adept in the subject she was teaching but also had a wide knowledge of didactics. Over all, beside Harry Potter, learning and books were her favorite pastimes. She could never get enough of thinking about how to improve her teaching skills. "Well, besides that a bit more preparation would help and I could still be a better teaching personality. How about showering ever morning for an instance? You looser!", she thought bitterly to herself, when somebody praised her like that.

But now was not the place or the time for it, the game went quite smoothly, she didn´t have to intervene, so she could let her thoughts wander to Anna again. She actually hadn´t done her weekly duty of writing diary in Spanish for two weeks now, something Eva had already noted in her head and thought of strange because Anna had been an eager and hard-working as well as trustful student for years now. She had problems at home, her parents were divorced and yes, her father had taken a violent side towards her mother before that and even hit Anna several times. But the divorce was finalized last year and Anna hat handled it quite well. Now she didn´t have contact with her father anymore, and even if it wasn´t easy, she seemed to find her path through adolescence quite well. Until last week, when Eva had first noticed the bruises on her student´s neck and thought it quite strange that the teenager had love bruises but seemed to be so distant. "To be truthful, you haven´t found it particularly strange, it just" thought Eva, swallowing hard, wanting to cry right now, "had reminded you of your own first experiences." It seemed to be a life time ago.  
But this wasn´t about Eva Maia Blythe, 24 years old, it was about Anna, 16 years old. Reminding her of that she kept the girl after class, telling the class she had to talk to Anna about the unfulfilled diary-duty. She softly took her by the arm, leading her towards the coazy corner of her classroom, where she had a rocket chair and a couch as well as a tea cooker, half the available herbal tea assortment and some sweets in store always.

"Anna. How are you really?"

"I´m fine, Seniorita Eva."

"You don´t seem fine, Anna. You haven´t even given me your diary for two weeks now."

"Hum… I just forgot to write, Madam." Said the girl shrugging seeming careless but still uncomfortable. Eva knew that Anna would never forget such a thing, she hadn´t forget her homework a single time, not even during the divorce of her parents. Especially the diary – Anna was one of the students which didn´t only practice her language in it and retell her day, but she really shared her problems and thoughts with Eva, who of course appreciated that and even spend quite some time replying to them.

"Don´t call me Madam, Anna. I´m not a 60-year-old-maiden. You know that just plain Eva is okay. Look at me please and tell me why you really couldn´t give me the diary. Did you write it?"

"Yes, Eva." She swallowed hard, tears seemed to flash into her eyes. "I even wrote in it every day, Madam."

"So why didn´t you give it to me? You know, that I never judge you for what you write in it. And I never ever tell anybody else."

"I´m so ashamed." Anna´s voice was scarcely audible. But Eva had heard it. Of course she had, and now it was her, who was swallowing hard, trying to hold back tears she hadn´t felt in a long time.

"Anna. Whatever it is, you don´t have to be ashamed. Is that why you are wearing a turtle neck in June for the past two weeks now?"

The teenager looked seemingly surprised and even more uncomfortable, panic written in her eyes. Eva considered what to do, then stand up from the rocket-chair, kicked of her shoes and took a sit on the couch beside the younger girl. "You know, Anna. I know how hard it is to talk or even thing about such things. You may think now – what does Seniorita Eva know, she has a perfect life. I never shared that with a student before, but I didn´t always. Especially when I was your age. My life was so much like hell, that I can´t even remember it for some years. I was beaten, abused and worse. In school, nobody ever took care for me. Nobody ever asked till I was your age. Even then the help didn´t come from school, but from a stranger in the street. I don´t know what happened to you. But I always wished that somebody would have helped me earlier, would have asked me a question just like I do to you know. My life would have been so different, if somebody had."

Eva hadn´t meant to tell the teenager so much. She scolded herself for scaring the girl and for opening up so much. She truly hadn´t told anybody about her missing memories from her teenager years or about her childhood experiences yet. Not a student, not a colleague, not anybody since she had gotten out of the hospital so many years ago. Why did she tell Anna now? This was not about herself. "How could you do something like that? Putting even more cruel stories on that girl was simply irresponsible and the absolute wrong thing to do!"

"Eva," again the voice was barely audible "Thank you for asking. Will you tell me more please? What happened to you? I know it´s hard. But then maybe I could show you the diary. I wouldn´t feel so ashamed anymore. You wouldn´t hate me, would you?"

Eva was surprised. Had she after all with her unplanned break-out touched the right nerve? She prayed not, she prayed her sense about an abused girl was wrong. Still, she had to deal with it, now. She had heard of that 6th sense surviving women had towards others, only that in those 2 years she had been teaching it hadn´t hit her so badly yet and before she never had much contact to anybody.

"Of course I wouldn´t hate or even like you less, Anna. Not for anything. But if you really want me to, I will tell you."

With those words, Eva drew a long breath and began to tell the little of her story she knew: „As you know, I was born on September 19th 1981 in Manchester in England. My parents were dentists, but they are dead now. I don´t have any siblings, grandparents or other relatives. Nevertheless when I was a little child, my Mum and Dad loved me a lot and I suppose I was really happy. Until I went to school. I was eager to go, so I entered primary school one year early, even if I was only 5 years old. I was so happy to be there, being able to discover the world of books and learning, but my classmates didn´t accept me. Maybe theywould have, but something awful happened in the winter of my first school year. I only knew that again when I was 18, but during a skiing day a stranger and an older pupil raped and abused me. I blamed myself for it, especially because the student, who had done it, haunted me through school calling me bad names, even hitting me. I never recognized that it wasn´t my fault, so I hid for all my school life, not telling anybody until I forget everything exept that it was all my fault, that I was disgusting and that everybody had the very right to hate me, call me names, haunt me and that I didn´t deserve any attention or even love."  
Eva stopped, she stared into emptiness, trying to put herself together, because after all her telling the story wasn´t about her, but about Anna. She had to help her. But Anna had already helped herself. She softly touched her teacher on the arm, stroking it gently: "Seniorita Eva. I´m so sorry. I promise you, I won´t make the same mistake. Please read my diary, because I´m not so strong, I can´t tell you." The teenager was crying all the tears Eva had never had for herself so the older girl put the younger one in her arms, just holding her. Because she knew, those tears were only for a small part for the teacher, but mostly, luckily for the student itself. They would find a way for Anna. And maybe it would even prove to be helpful for Eva. But this wasn´t about her, this was about Anna.

_A/N:_ This chapter was quite hard to write, and I don´t really like it. A lot remains unclear, just as in Eva´s (and Anna´s) life. But you might already thinking about how everything could be solved – feel free to share your thoughts with me. Especially if you do think it´s all unlogic and crap or if you find too many grammatical errors, please consider to leave a review!


	3. Chapter 2: The lost dignity

_Disclaimer:_ JK Rowling, you did an awsome job, now you are done and we´re left without new books. The characters are all yours; I just borrow them for a while. I don´t make money out of it, so please don´t sue me!

Chapter 2: The lost dignity

„Oh Merlin! How much I do hate those semi-business lunches!" With those words Marco Daniels unwillingly left his desk in the cultural department of the US embassy in Santiago de Chile and went on his way out to this new fancy restaurant in Providencia, where he was supposed to meet his counterpart of the German embassy. She was blond, rich, had lots of brains, they shared their interests both in work and in cultural taste – but still, she was human, a woman even, she asked to many questions and made to personal comments about his unwillingness to share any answers to them. People usually did that, that´s why Marco didn´t like them a lot and woman in particularly.

But life was cruel, and as today too often there was no way around them. He had promised to meet with Miss Schreiner, and so he would simply enjoy the food and hopefully only have to listen to her stories instead of answering questions. She was still a pretty bearable type of her species, because she talked too much about herself and therefore was an easy conversation partner. But he had the feeling that Miss Schreiner had a thing for him. That was nothing strange either, he was used to it. Females simply were attracted by his outside, if they knew his inside, they wouldn´t even give him a second thought except for those of hatred and disgust. That´s why he kept away completely, at least on a romantic basis of a relationship and that was exactly what he intended to do today again. With those thoughts he caught eye of the mentioned woman who was already waiting in front of the entrance of the restaurant.

"Hello Miss Schreiner!" Marco kissed her on the right cheek just as it was custom in the country they both lived in. "Should we go in?" They settled on a table beside the window and after ordering light lunches Marco attempted to start the conversation in business topics. He asked her several questions about a Gala all the Western countries were organizing together in two month time, and made several suggestions that seemed of importance from the US point of view. They also talked some minutes about the progresses in the language programs in middle schools and the difficulties they were facing with the Chilean educational ministry. It was going pretty well and Marco even thought that it was quite an enjoyable lunch until Miss Schreiner started to lead the conversation into more personal territories. First she simply started asking questions and giving opinions about a theater play they had both seen, then she tried to find more common interests on the field of classical music and as he still went on with it, although grudgingly, she asked the question, he had dreaded for some 20 minutes now: "So, Mr. Daniels, why don´t you call me Marion?"

Marco new what came after that, but still he needed his German counterpart as an important alley, so he could hardly refuse her offer. He raised his glass of water with the words: "I am Marco, Marion. To a fruitful alliance." Her eyes gleamed to much, he thought and it was hard not to roll his eyes as she pointed out like a teenage girl that their names were almost the same. But he just nodded slightly and planed his next move. He´d just have to tell her that he had to get back, but that would seem rude, so he might as well just ask her about her life, let her tell her probably most boring stories of childhood, fake some laughter and interest and then he could just point out the time when she asked about his past. "So, Ma- " he started his question with a perfect Slytherin smile, but she had just a second earlier started herself with saying "So, Marco, tell me something more about yourself. You surely have an interesting past." "The hell I have.", he thought, but started his usual tale: "Well, I went to Yale, where I majored both in law and politics, because I wanted to make the world a better place with more justice. But after graduation I applied for the embassy program instead of working for NGOs. After the course in Washington D.C., they sent me as a trainee to Kathmandu, where I worked in the economic department. I liked it there, but it was politically unstable and despite my university studies I was always interested in the work of the cultural department and I was keen to use my Spanish course I took at Yale, so I gladly accepted when they offered me the position here in Santiago. I have been here for two years now; I enjoy the cultural life and the climate a lot. And my counterparts of course." A bit of flattering never was out of place. And beside that – he would just make it look like he was a man that merely defined his past on his career. Marco just took a breath before wanting to ask her "And what about you?" just to withdraw her attention from his person, but again she was quicker exclaiming with a laughter: "But you can´t start your tale of life with the moment you entered Yale. What about your childhood, your parents or even high school? What about your first girl-friend? Your friends? Your holidays?"

She truly was of the most annoying sort of women, he would just have to leave. He couldn´t lie under those daily-life circumstances, as much of a Slytherin he was, and he would not tell the truth, that was simply out of question. So he just told her: "There´s not much to tell, Marion. And by the way, I have to get back to work. I really have to work on the report to the foreign ministry. But it was really to get to know you further. We´ll see each other next week on the coordination meeting for the Gala." He kissed her quickly and made an escape. He hoped that he hadn´t ruined their business relationship, but she had gone too far - far too far. She had stepped over the unwritten line of the rules about dealing with Marco Daniels: "Don´t ever ask him or even make him think about his past."

There were simply to many pictures in his mind, pictures he didn´t want to see again and that still where triggered so easily to his mind: His father, pointing a wand at him giving him a wizard beating, when he was just 7 years old. Hogwarts, the loneliness of being the king of Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle laughing at him making cruel jokes about Hermione Granger and cheering on him to humiliate her even more. Voldemort in his house after 5th year and all the dark and cruel air around him, how he enslaved his father and then how he gave Draco his duty to kill Dumbledore if he wanted his family to stay alive. The moment he stood in front of Dumbledore, when he knew it all – that he couldn´t do it. Then seeing Dumbledore die, fleeing with Snape through the wood. Being tortured by Voldemort for his failure, disgusting the man and still having to serve him. All those and many more moments of his past flashed through his head, robbing him his senses and his hard gained bits of self respect. Marco knew that he would find no peace today, but he had to shut them out before it all came back to that crucial point that changed his life forever. If the pictures began flowing towards this day, he would be lost and there would be no way he could accomplish any work anymore. And he still had that report to the foreign ministry to write. So he concentrated himself much, occluded his mind and entered the embassy again. Occluding his mind was the only related thing to magic he still practiced. He was not thankful for the methods his father had used to teach it to him, but he was deeply grateful that he had that ability. Only be shutting his memories away he could live a life that at least gave him some of his dignity back.

Dignity for Marco was gained by hard work, and so he worked on the report until late that night. Then, after having settled on his roof-top with a glass of wine as he did every evening he let the memories flow. He knew if he didn´t allow them to do so, it would only become worse. And he wouldn´t find sleep anyway, so why not torture himself a bit. It was his way of redemption, as he couldn´t apologize or even undo anything. So he was back again in the time of Christmas break of his 7th year. After the worst Christmas of his life – he had to share it with the Dark so-called-Lord, Bellatrix Lestrange and all the other Death Eaters and everybody received the Cruciatus curse instead of presents, Voldemort had given him together with Crabbe and Goyle one last chance: They had to find Hermione Granger, who together with Potter had escaped Voldemort again and bring her to the Dark Lord – alive. For days they had apparated back and forth through the woods without any hope of finding them. Crabbe and Goyle were stupidly loyal as always, willing to kill everybody in their way. He was disgusted by them and also he still stood behind the ideas of the superiority of wizards and was defending the thought that only Purebloods were real wizards he had lived through too much torture and undignifying treatments of the hand of the Dark Lord that he couldn´t cherish that demon´s orders anymore; he hated him and loathed being his servant.

He thought much about what he could do when and if they found Granger. Still he had drawn no conclusions. She was a mud-blood, unworthy to be a witch, but she was bright and somehow sexy and did anybody deserve to die? Well, she just had to die, didn´t she? It was the only way to save himself. He only wanted to survive and therefore he needed to find Granger and turn her in to the Dark Lord.

The moment he found her though, he reacted differently. It was another cold winter day and he wanted to be alone for a while, so he told Crabbe and Goyle that they should roam the wood near the place the former World Quidditch Cup was held at, where they had camped the past days, in a row, walking at a distance of 30 meters to each other. He had spotted her, kneeling and picking up something from the ground. He sneaked up soundlessly behind her, did a quick silent "Expelliarmus" and closed her mouth with his hand while holding her with his other arm, whispering in her ear: "Don´t be afraid, Granger!"

He never knew why he had acted like that. Maybe it was because he was so terrified himself. Or maybe it was because he really didn´t want to kill anybody, he didn´t want to be part of the Dark Lords´ army anymore. By the time he actually had held her in his arm, whispering those calming words he didn´t really have time to give it any thought because in the next moment both Crabbe and Goyle were running towards them and he was acting in his role again, insulting her after having silenced her, calling her Mudblood and making stupid jokes about her not being a witch, and that now she would even cease to be a living person. What would the Weasel king and the scarhead have to say to that? Crabbe and Goyle were laughing and cheering just as they always did, but unfortunately at least Crabbe hat his own thoughts now, too.

So he growled another dirty laugh and then suggested honestly: "Oi, Malfoy – the Dark Lord wouldn´t mind if I had a bit of fun with her before we turn her in, would he? I mean, she´s a filthy Mudblood, but she is kind of a girl and it would be for free." Draco was nearly disgusted, but after all she was just a Muggleborn and would die shortly anyway. So he just shrugged and squeezed something that sounded like "Well, if you must. But I don´t want to see her naked or anything" through his teeth before sitting down on a tree stump.

He really didn´t want to watch it, but her eyes were holding him close. They were screaming all the agony that her mouth couldn´t give free. Then suddenly they broke and there was nothing but shame in them. It was then that Draco broke, too – he was sure of that. Or maybe it was when he saw the blood flowing inbetween her legs – just the same color and consistency as his own. He would not see anymore of it, there was no way that he would give her to that monster that was supposed to be a Lord. No way. He might have been whining and selfish in the past, but he was a Malfoy, and that name stood for honor and glory. He might never get the last one, not as a servant to that monster at last, but he could get the first one back by saving Hermione Granger and he wouldn´t even have to die for it. Draco Malfoy had a plan.

After Crabbe was finished, thankfully very quick, he slapped Hermione and kicked her into the abdomen, insulting her in the worst ways. But Draco had to control himself, he even had to watch Goyle having a go, too. Then it seemed almost impossible, but absolutely necessary; now it was the cruelest memory. How could he do that? How could he not have avoided it? It was the guilty of his life, a guilty that he would never redeem. Never ever. But he had watched it, and so he had the pleasure of being tortured with those pictures over and over again today and almost every night of his life.

Maybe it wasn´t even the cruelst thing he had ever done, or his uppermost guilty. Maybe that honor lay in himself telling Crabbe and Goyle that he would have a go on Hermione, too, now that the two others had made her such a good whore. Maybe that was the point that took all the life out of her. Or maybe it was the Unforgivable he had used later on. But he had done it all just to save her. He had explained that they couldn´t turn Hermione in like that, the Dark Lords rage would be unspoken and he would probably kill them for not letting him have her first and bringing her in such a state, where she couldn´t even answer questions anymore. Crabbe and Goyle of course believed him and as he suggested that they could burn her, just as those Muggle relatives of her had burned witches and wizards that time, they went of gladly and happily to collect wood while he was supposed to have his go on her.

But of course he didn´t do anything like that, the only way he touched her was as he took of the amulet, which served as an invisible concealed international portkey, he had worn since he was a little boy and put it around her neck. Then he explained to her, that he would imperio her and sent her to New York. She shouldn´t come back until after the defeat of the Dark Lord, because he would make the wizarding world think that she was dead. Hermione didn´t seem to realize any of his words, but maybe they were sinking in. He could just hope that they did, because Crabbe and Goyle were returning already.

They magically formed the stake and Draco suggested that they would just tell the Dark Lord that they burned her on the spot because she put up a fight and then accidentally got killed by Sectumsempra. Because she looked so nasty they burned her, but took her hair and wand as evidence to the Dark Lord. He surely would reward them for that also. Draco of course doubted that, but Crabbe and Goyle were so thick, that they believed him anyway and were eager to burn the Granger Mudblood at the stake.

Draco told them they could as well make a bit of a spectacle for the three of them out of it and performed the Imperius curse on her. He started giving her orders: the first one was to cut off her hair, which he took into his pocket. Then he made her dance, spin around and kiss her toe. He didn´t enjoy doing so, but thought it necessary to distract Crabbe and Goyle. It worked indeed; they were soon rolling on the soil of laughter. Draco took the opportunity to cast the freezing charm and fire-repelling charm on her and ordered her to put herself dancing on the stake while he made Crabbe start the fire. Draco had Hermione to make faces and move her belly while putting her tongue onto her nose. Again the two stupid dunderheads were rolling on the floor and Draco even made them turn around as he made Hermione finally touch the amulet and say: "I´m a filthy Mudblood and I was pleasured by the wonderful Gregory Goyle, the king Vincent Crabbe and the little dragon…" Then, as Draco alone saw her spinning away, he shouted "My Mark is burning – we have to go to the Dark Lord now. Take my arm for Merlin´s sake!" With those words he apparated the three of them away, back to Malfoy manor. He was never so glad that he alone had the supposed honor of having taken the Dark Mark.

What followed was a blur. They presented Granger´s wand and hair to the Dark Lord and told their little fairy tale of having her killed. The monster of course was outraged and put the Cruciatus on the three of them for a good while. But that was not the worst. It was exactly what Draco had expected. What he hadn´t anticipated was the reaction of his father. Lucius put the Cruciatus on his own son, holding it even longer than the Dark Lord and that in front of the Dark Lord and a hand full of other Death Eaters. His mother just looked away. That was the moment that Draco Malfoy decided that not only Muggleborns had the same blood as wizards, just as he had seen it today, but also asked himself if maybe Muggles could be the better people. For sure he knew that he had to get away.

And that was exactly what he did – he apparated away, telling everybody that he would bring Harry Potter to redeem his failure with Granger, performed a last curse – an unforgivable even on a Muggle in the US embassy, whom he imperioed to first give him all the documents he needed for a new life including High School diploma and flight ticket and then to go on a holiday to the coast where he would supposedly have found a suicide note and Dracos wand with the pledge to mail it to his parents and cremate his body inmediatally, which he tell him that he did so in a letter together with wand and note.

Since then he had never heard of the wizarding world again. He was glad, because he really couldn´t have taken more memories. Those he had haunted him, just like tonight. Sighing, Draco Malfoy stared into the night, thinking both that he deserved it and that he couldn´t wait until the morning, when he would be Marco Daniels again.


	4. Chapter 3: Trust, not lost

_Disclaimer:_ JK Rowling, you did an awsome job, now you are done and we´re left without new books. The characters are all yours; I just borrow them for a while. I don´t make money out of it, so please don´t sue me!

Chapter 3: Trust, not lost.

Eva was sitting at her favorite spot in her flat, right under huge Draconia plant in the rocket chair where she could stare out of the huge window onto the lake and the woods. With all the bad luck she had in her life, she was really lucky to having found this cozy nature-indulged home near her school. She wouldn't know how she could survive if she had to live in one of the worn down sky scrapers just on the other side of her working place.

She had put a big mug of hot fruit tea in front of her and also some chocolate, just in case that Anna's diary would freak her out too much. Sighing and half expecting the worst, she opened the nice booklet her student used for the diary duty. She knew, she wouldn't enjoy reading the confessions – and it was not because they were pure trivia or full of errors, but because of the subject. But still she had to do it, here was her chance to safe Anna, to help her in a way none had helped herself all those years ago. So, clenching her teeth, Eva settled to read.

After half an hour she had finished the past two weeks, it was just as she had anticipated – Anna was abused within her family, although thankfully not by her parents. Still, she would have to help the girl to get out of her living environment first thing in the morning and then they would plan the next steps. For a moment she even thought about finding out the girl's address now and getting her this instant, but she supposed it was wiser to approach the matter with cunning planning instead of braveness. She would think about it during the night, but first she needed a distraction and to tend to her own issues.

3500 kilometers to the East, in New York City, a telephone rang. It was Marina Acevedo's number and after a quick check on the number recognizer, the energetic Mexican American picked up screaming "Mayita!" into the receiver as if she wanted to give a big bear hug right through it. It would have been appropriated if one could hear the weak and broken voice on the other side of the line: "Hola mi hermana. Como estas?"

That was the way Eva always used to address Marina since the days they had shared a room at the home and later a flat through their last two high-school years in Salt Lake City. Neither had siblings, parents or even any kind of family, so the two girls had decided to be at least sisters by choice and never break the connection between them, no matter what happened to them. They also had taken an oath to tell each other the truth always. Both had to lie or misdirect too often to survive and it was good to have one person on earth that you could shatter but not shock with the truth, even if it was as confusing as a missing memory of 7 years.

Marina quickly noticed that tone and switched back to English: "What's up, Mayita? What happened?" Marina always called Eva after her second name Maia, because then their names would start almost in the same way with "Ma" and she also had noticed, when they first met that Eva reacted better to it when she was in a critical state of mind, sleeping or passed out.

"I don't know, Marina." Eva stumbled, but Marina knew better than to interrupt her immediately, "One student of mine is being abused and I told her part of my story today, to convince her to share hers with me and let her help me."

"But that's wonderful, Maia. You know, not about the girl of course, but when was the last time you actually told somebody the truth? Actually told somebody anything about yourself?" Just as always Marina was pointing out the positive side first – how she could be so optimistic was something that would be an ever lasting admirable mystery to Eva.

"You know exactly when that was, Marina. And you also know how it turned out." Eva's voice turned from weak to bitter as she was thinking about the only time in her life a boy had gained interest in her, and she even had decided to trust him – not that it had done her any good. She was completely incapable of relationships of any kind.

"Yes, I know. And that's why I'm so proud of you, Mayita. You know that I think you should start going out again, talking, sharing, maybe even loving. You will need all your strength and stability if you want to help that little student of yours."

Eva sighed. "I know. But it's hard. It's too hard for me. I can't simply walk to my colleagues who are all weird and say: Hey, I don't remember my teenage years, but I have been raped during my childhood and pick me up for a nice romantic dinner date on Friday and 7 p.m.! And by the way, don't hope for physical contact, because I can't stand it either."

"That's not funny, Eva Maia Blythe. You can't shut yourself out of everybody for whole your life How about we set up a plan? You could start writing, you know. To somebody, who lives very far away and doesn't know your real name."  
"You mean via an online dating site? You know I don't have a terribly high opinion of those. No way, Marina. Simply no way. I'm not interested in dating anyway. Just a loose correspondence or even friendship would be more than I dreamt of already."

"So why don't you start pen palling? You could even take a look at some Chilean sites, you know. Wait a second, I think I even read an article about quite an extravagant site where you could publish a dream instead of such boring biography and advertisement stuff. It was called www.dreamalittledream.cl I think. I even wanted to check it out myself. Wouldn't that be perfect for you?"  
"Maybe, Marina. What would I do without you and all your crazy ideas and positive thoughts?" Eva was smiling again. The long distance call was always paying off, and so after they chatted along over Marina's life in New York for a while, Eva felt confident and hopeful again. Marina was right, she needed to get support herself, if she wanted to really help Anna and finally make some progress out of her isolation and mess, too.

So with a smile she settled with her laptop on her bed. She actually disapproved of surfing the net in her bed and even more about eating in bed but it were two habits she just simply couldn't strive off yet. At least she had picked up yesterday's trash before climbing into her personal pillow heaven. She opened the website Marina had recommended and browsed the dreams of other people for a while. Some were pretty interesting – the nature loving or adventurous ones especially. But still Eva decided against replying to one. She feared the rejection that would lie in not getting an answer to a reply, because she knew herself enough to anticipate herself stopping any further attempts in such a case. So she pulled out pen and paper of her school bag and elaborated her own dream.

The paper finally seemed to be an artwork of scrawling and correcting, and still Eva wasn't satisfied with the lines she only hat to translate to Spanish in order to put them onto the website under her newly registered account under the nick name "Mayita". The text was not perfect, but it was completely honest and it was her dream – her three parted dream for past, present and future. So she summoned all her Gryffindor-courage (as she told herself, although she always thought she should have ended up in Ravenclaw as much as she would have loved to be in a house with Hermione Granger. And she hadn't even thought about Harry Potter once today until now!) and put her dream online:

"I dream that just once somebody wouldn't search for answers in my past,

but take me as I am in the present.

I dream that just once somebody wouldn't only see my present outside,

but help me see what already lies within me

and where my path winds to in the future.

I dream that just once somebody would keep me from dreaming about a better future,

because the past and present created together already would be a real dream."

Now all there was to do was to wait and dream again, because dreams where all Eva had right now. But even that was better than the past few weeks where she had preferred the world of Harry Potter to her own dreams. As good as those books where, that couldn't happen. She had a life to live, people to help and over all dreams to dream.

_A/N.:_ Sorry that the chapter is pretty short. But I decided not to switch the point of view of the characters in one chapter, and the next important step will simply be back in Santiago de Chile.I also kept Anna's story pretty unelaborated still, because I felt you already had to read enough violence. I still don't know if anybody actually wants to read that or if you all think it's a complete waste of internet space. As for the Spanish bits, I'm sorry – I'll try to keep them as little and obvious as possible. But feel free to comment on that, too. Please. Thanks to anybody who is reading until here though!


	5. Chapter 4: Shared dreams, not lost

_Disclaimer:_ JK Rowling, you did an awsome job, now you are done and we´re left without new books. The characters are all yours; I just borrow them for a while. I don´t make money out of it, so please don´t sue me!

Chapter4: Shared dreams, not lost.

Marco Daniels was still not quite himself the next morning. There wasn't a day he didn't think about his former life as Draco Malfoy, but those nights that he couldn't sleep at all because he had to relive through the incidents in the woods, where they had Hermione Granger, had luckily become fewer over the long years. Still they hit him every time just as it had happened yesterday. He asked himself, what he could have changed. How he could have avoided to even have come to that point of his life. And he also asked himself how he could ever live a normal life with that past. He had a good job, of course and was respected. Money wasn't a problem, his salary wasn't enough for gemstones anymore, but still sufficient to guaranty him the few pleasures of his life: a good glass of wine, his roof top and a fine selection of newspapers and cultural journals from all over the world.

Today in the morning he hadn't received his Guardian though. He still checked that one most carefully, although he would never admit to himself that he was looking for signs of the wizarding community. He didn't get to read the Prophet of course, so he had to relay on the Muggle path of information – unclear death were always a bad sign or strange behavior of Owl species. Sighing Marco decided to just check the paper over the internet before rushing to work, there was no need to change his daily routine just because the mail had messed up.

Strangely the Guardian website didn't work, too. In Nepal that was something quite usual, because the government used to censor the foreign media, but he had never suffered of that in his years in Chile. Well, maybe the connection is just wrong, I wanted to check something on google anyway. He was still tired though, not surprisingly considering the amount of sleep he had got – none. So while his eyes were falling shut for a second his fingers relaxed so that he accidentally hit one of the advertisement links on google.

It was a dating site or something like that. Something about stupid dreams stupid people had. "As if I ever was looking for a date, voluntarily even! You are crazy to assume that adds would be of interest for me, machine." Marco was just trying to click it away, when line hit him like a lightening stroke: "pero aceptarme como estoy en el presente". He quickly read through the 7 liner translating it into English in his head:

"I dream that just once somebody wouldn't search for answers in my past,

but take me as I am in the present.

I dream that just once somebody wouldn't only see my present outside,

but help me see what already lies within me

and where my path winds to in the future.

I dream that just once somebody would keep me from dreaming about a better future,

because the past and present created together already would be a real dream."

He could sign that without looking at it twice. But such a "somebody" wouldn't exist, ever. Well, Marco would certainly not ask questions about the past, and even if he liked pretty woman, the brains and heart were far more important, and he would be glad to even dream about a better future, but having a dream present would of course be even better. Still, he didn't date – not in real life, and even less online. So he just clicked the website away and set off for the embassy.

The morning went on quietly and Marco found his thoughts wandering to the familiar dream of the unknown person regularly. That was strange because thanks to the ability of occluding his mind he normally was quite capable on concentrating on his work. He would never have gotten so far, couldn't he do so. But still, today, he wondered if that really was his deepest desire, his dream of life. Or wasn't it more like that he wanted to be accepted and trusted and loved despite somebody knowing his past? Wasn't it that once meeting a woman he already knew that she was only looking at him because of his looks and position in society? And beside he couldn't tell them anything about his real inside – nobody would accept the horrible person he was, he just wished somebody could pick the positive pieces of his soul together and make him a better person. And what did he needed to even think about present, future and past as a dream if all he wanted to do was to live – it would be enough, he didn't need a perfect life. He just needed any beside his work and past. Those were the dreams that for him lay behind those lines. But what might have been behind them for the writer? He would never know, because he would never write a reply.

Still, in the evening the thoughts still bothered him, so he decided to at least read the other person's dream again. After searching for a while he found the right website again and then he just couldn't resist. He would never meet that person, but what harm could be done by one email? Just sharing some thoughts about a dream, that seemed to be shared? He could mask himself pretty well even more – he didn't have to give his real name, age, nationality or anything.

So he just registered a new account, using his old pet name "little dragon" as a nick name and started to type randomly:  
" Mayita, I would take you as you are in the present and as you were in the past and as you will be in the future. Because I would wish the same for me, that somebody knowing or not knowing about what happened during my childhood or teenage years, would just accept me, with my internal and external flaws and strengths as an equal, not as somebody who is thought to be perfect, but truly couldn't be anything but lost."

With that Marco pressed the send button, not even thinking about translating his thoughts into Spanish or realizing that this was just the most upfront statement he had made in all his life. Seconds later he was mortified, he had wanted to write something philosophical/psychological, something impersonal. Instead he had made the most personal confession and himself sound like some freak that was just dying of loneliness and would promise anything just not to be alone anymore.

The sad truth was, exactly that applied to him. Only that his promise was complete openness and trust, something that for him, a Slytherin, and a Malfoy even, was far harder to give than anything else. Maybe he had been able to give it now, because he thought that nobody would be able to read it anyway – he had written in the wrong language and not revealed anything about himself. He didn't have to worry about the consequences, because there would be none. Little did he know, that this first uncalculated outburst of a Malfoy ever, would change everything…

_A/N.:_ Still no reviews – but thanks for the 211 clicks and the 22 people who even stayed with Eva, Draco/Marco and me until Chapter 3 :). I think I will continue writing for you, even if I have to admit that it's hard not to completely put myself into question for apparently being one of the few authors who doesn't get any reviews at all. Maybe it's just too boring or too confusing or too badly written? I would appreciate any flames, honestly!


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